


contort | Levi x Reader |

by McHeichou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin) Swears, Levi x Reader - Freeform, Modern Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, Swearing, aot - Freeform, bad language, his bad girl, neighbour reader, no bad stuff, no fifty shades too, shingekinokyojin, snk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6569146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McHeichou/pseuds/McHeichou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Levi Ackerman as a distasteful neighbour of yours, the story ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

Levi Ackerman was a straightforward man. He didn't like to twist and twirl sentences within the gaps of his fingers just so that the other party could receive a fortune of being self-satisfied with themselves. If a document was wrong, then it was only wrong. There was not even a single shade of grey in his words. They were either black or white, he was always tumbling along a row of extremes. Just like his whole life.

"Wrong," he called, tucking the file within the confines of his ebony drawer. He wasn't sure what hurricane of emotion waltzed along the poor guy's face but one among those was surely disappointment. Thick, yet blurry and sure as hell not inconspicuous. 

And this was what made Levi wonder if he was too harsh on his employees. He never touched any of them, not even laid a finger or caused a hair to fall off the bushes. But verbal assault. He tilted his chin and closed his eyes to conjure up all of those moments when he had to shout at the bunch of amateurs sitting in their cubicles and secretly eating a bag of chips. There weren't many times, though, when he had to cross a certain limit of pitch in his voice. 

Remembering those moments wasn't as elementary as picking up a file from his desk. First of all, his memories weren't alphabetically arranged and second of all, he never gave them much importance. It wouldn't be a surprise to him if he couldn't recollect them.

"B-But," the younger male stirred in his seat and sighed loudly, as if he had been expecting a better result. Perhaps gratitude. Levi internally snickered. To achieve his gratitude, one had to first cross mountains, drink sea water, battle with snakes, stab themselves with glass fifteen times and become a zombie. In short, it was nearly impossible.

"Go and tell those lazy asses to re-check the accounts." He sighed, reciprocating the disappointment. 

Jean scurried off, leaving behind a trail of fear for Levi to inhale. Fear was a good adulterous material to grind on air. But cigarette was more excelling. Better and lethal. It was like small force which churns one's insides slowly in the most sluggish tempo and when it fully takes its effect, the user would be caught off guard, muttering, "I thought this shit was harmless." 

Levi didn't pay any heed to his thoughts. He climbed up the stairs and stepped onto the roof of the building. Fumbling with a pack of cigarettes, he drew one from the pack and lit it. His pale lips encased the white stick and his lungs expanded to take a long drag, long and almost painful. His eyes dilated themselves. Holding his breath in for a second, he finally let go of the cloud of smoke. His nerves first quivered at the taste of a foreign material other than your usual air, but finally gave in to the addicting nicotinic taste. 

The barbarous wind almost slapped the cigarette away from his lips but Levi held on to his precious treasure. Elbows on the steel railing, he let the scenery of an October evening flood his vision. Neon lights were blaring against the crumbling bricks, purple mixing with red resulting in an maladroit combination which repelled most of the picky pedestrians from walking along that lane. Various colored cars moved in a straight path but split up when they encountered the V point of Emmel street. The rooms of 'Gemma Apartments' building were lit in such a way that it was almost impossible to ignore the strange 'W' which the windows made on one side of the apartment complex. 

It took Levi a precise of two minutes to realize that every street and building in Rose City had a name with two consecutive m's shoved somewhere in the word: Emmel street, Mmres Café, Remmy's shoe shop, etcetera.

"Fucking weather," he cursed when the wind tried to slap away his cigarette again. His conscience was telling him to drag his feet and go back to his office but his not-yet-finished nicotine stick was cooing otherwise. He wasn't fazed when a few pigeons landed on the railing next to him but a sudden intense fear made his arms travel back to his sides. 

The pigeons in the City had a habit of defecating on the railings. 

He hurriedly checked his blazer for any hint of pigeon poop and sighed in relief when he found none. 

"This is a dangerous area," he said, glaring at the railings and making a mental note of never touching them so as to prevent any regretful incident in the near future.

Crunching the unfinished cigarette beneath his shoes, he took his time to glance at the broken glory with ash covering its side. It almost seemed poetic to him.

He stepped down a stair, looked back at the scenery and continued to step down but not before commenting, "Damn the pollution."  
-  
Upon entering the office, he was met with familiar faces with looks of jubilation splattered on their mouths, dripping on the pristine floor. It irked him for a second but the moment he looked at the clock, he understood. 9 fucking PM. He motioned the idiots to get their asses out of the workplace and sat on his own leather bound seat. 

They collected their laptops and binders, chattering on their way out and crashing against the glass door which was overly transparent. Passage of time should've shoved at least some miniscule tendril of intelligence into their almond brains but it apparently (and unfortunately) it didn't.

"Petr-" 

"Yes sir?" she responded, her black heels clattering against the tiles. Her painted nails were holding a brown bag by its opening and her other hand was busy clenching and unclenching itself around her cellphone. She scanned the olive green walls and rested her hazel gaze on the wood framed window. "It's going to rain," she told herself and the flash of regret in her eyes revealed that she forgot to pack her umbrella. 

"Yes, I can see that. Do you mind giving me my coffee?" Levi asked.

"Of course. Here." She was nibbling on her sentences and it took Levi several confused seconds to decipher what the red haired woman just said. "Sir," she said, or perhaps asked, judging by the way she spoke.

"Hmm?" Levi licked his lips before bringing the bitter solution close to his mouth. "What?" His thin brows contorted together in an attempt to ask Petra what she wanted. He set down the hot cup and folded his arms against his chest. 

"Y-you are almost thirty.." She inhaled what she just said and Levi could swear she was already repenting what she was going to say.

"Wow. Thanks for the reminder." He bitterly chuckled, circling the rim of his different cup with his index finger. "Your point is...?" 

Her heels once again tapped against the flooring as she advanced to take a seat. One could clearly see how much nervous she was and how much of tension she was radiating off into the air which certainly was becoming hard for Levi to helve. She swept her auburn hair to settle a bunch behind her ear, her eyes trickling a shade of mischief among the chromes of nervous energy. The girl could work her butt off all day everyday but still be as fresh as a newly fallen snow. Apart from the usual perfume of hers, she smelled of melted dark chocolate, mint and pinecones. The pinecone bit was too much. A black pullover was lazily draped over her petite figure, the sleeves grazing her bony knuckles and its striped hem was snuggling her thin waist. Clearly, the sweater wasn't hers, perhaps Olou's. She wore her usual bottoms--black pants. Some unusual days brought blue jeans covering her lower body into the view of her colleagues.

She inhaled once again, as if taking a leap of faith. "You see, I have a roommate who is single and prett-" 

'Ah,' he sighed thoughtfully. "No. Erwin bribed you, right?" 

She just smiled, "Not bribed." She was among the éclat of people who had genuine written all over and lent money to the broke bastards who inhabited the front right cubicles as if it was their father's property. Levi made a mental note to remind them who was the boss. "Just wanted to tell you that." 

"That you were not bribed?" Levi sipped on his coffee, relishing the bitter taste which pleased his tastebuds. "You are dismissed." 

Petra muttered a 'fine' under her breath, elongating the F to inhuman limits. Levi was left alone in the building to collect his laptop, lock his office and re-open the door because he forget his car keys which seemed to be hiding inside the pen holder. 

Petra was right, it was going to rain. In fact it was raining. Grey clouds staggered against the dominant uncouth wind which clamoured and swept away multitude of the fallen leaves towards the east side of the city where coincidentally Levi had settled his living. The better part of his time was spent battling the traffic which had sprawled itself not-so-graciously onto most of the space.

Most of the times, the weather acted like the unyielding lady who used exaggerating and flamboyant gestures and lived in Levi's neighborhood . Whenever he wished for clear skies, the good Lord graced him with the most turbulent skies which showed no modicum of cerulean furls but rather dropped an unwelcomed gift which consisted of dingy ashen clouds hovering above his head.

The engine growled again, ready to test its tires again. Levi adjusted the rearview mirror, noticing a crumb on his shoulder. Apparently some idiotic and tall ass colleague of his thought it would be fun to eat chips whilst standing above him. With a flick of his finger, his outfit became spotless again. He turned up some 'Greg Laswell' to help keep his mind breezeless but the tranquility received its death certificate and got replaced by irritation when he remembered that he forgot to do grocery shopping and according to his estimates, the refrigerator was empty.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, "I'll just order food." He steered towards 'Sleymm street'. Time seemed stagnant and icebound, hanging on the rickety branches of discontinuance which explained the whole concept of traffic. 

Levi's mind was already meandering to and fro, settling wretchedly atop the idea of 'Saturday'. How could he have forgotten? Saturday screaked and bellowed only one tangible figure in his mind-- his neighbour's parties, her doltish friends, and the inadmissible intonations she called music. He could already feel every thread of energy wearying out of his being, pooling around the accelerator while he splashed on it with his foot, expediting the car forward. 

"Jesus Christ, I just wish (Name) decides not to throw a party today." 

-


	2. [1]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahh tell me if there are any mistakes

'It isn't much,' you tried telling yourself in uniform gaps to let the self-assurance seep within your nervous pores. To even let the sentence trickle from your conscience seemed like a voluminous potbellied lie. To contradict your ever swirling thoughts, the music was blaring and screeching against the limit of your downsizing endurance. Emerald lights criss-crossed the entire room which seemed to amplify the effect of music. 

Jean staggered towards you, his not-so-cool steel chain was dangling against his hip in a burlesque fashion. You rolled your eyes and caught his jacket clad arm to support his drunk self. "That was apple drink, you punk." 

"What? Why am I drunk then?" he questioned you, giving the drink a perlustrating glare.

"Ever heard of placebo effect?" you asked.

"Gazebo erect?"

"Thought so." 

Caring was an attribute which comes hurling towards a being when their loved ones were in some shade of danger. But seeing Jean, faux-drunk, you decided to swat the concept of caring into drain. 

Your friends entered your house, greeting you with several 'whoos!' and 'a party ain't a party without us!'. Putting up your best smile and straining the strongest part of your self-restraint, you let them enter even though you could swear that you did not invite them. Your whole house seemed like a labyrinth of million voices speaking at once and their offspring whispers darting at your ears as if they were feeding fat to their long held grudges towards you. Leaning against the beige wall, you tried to generate a physical as well as a mental barrier between you and the pushy people.

Piles of thick leather jackets soon stationed themselves on your sofa and several people apologized to you for spilling their drinks on the carpet. "It's okay," you told them, the thought of actually forgiving them was miles apart. 

You should've cancelled the party when you had time but one tiny voice against twenty people's shouts of, 'Aww man, party pooper' was considered negligible. 

This party was definitely getting out of hand. The only fear seeping in your bones and colliding against your skull was cops. Someone could call the cops. And that 'someone' was surely going to be Levi fucking Ackerman. You laughed, butterflies, wasps and bats stirred your insides and ate the backbone of your fortitude. 

That man had this bright glittering bubble of personal space which he treasured more than his camel pack cigarettes. It was clearly evident that the imaginary chalky dust lines which surrounded his vicinity were shouting, "Do not enter!" 

You cerebrated for a while, diluting the irritating image of Levi with the current dire situation of yours. This party was going overboard. 

Nobody was senseful enough to turn down the volume of the music. Bodies was piling up inside the small living room space. You were getting tired of putting up laughs and handshakes (most of them ended in you wiping your hands on your jeans). Leaning against the main door, you wished your body weight would hold the lunkheads from entering your house. But apparently, it didn't work because you were shoved in a corner with crumbs of your patience leaving behind in a sooty and grubby trail. 

If you had to define what you were feeling at this exact moment, you'd probably describe yourself as a a glass window, encased by a wooden frame and defiled by termites. The glass was your soul-- webby fissures running along the entire friable length with all the crevices interconnecting at the centre which was your frazzled conscience. 

Dragging your tired self along the tapering perimeter of space, you pushed the door with all your might, which caused several crackheads to land on their butts. "I just want some air!" you reasoned.

Crisp chilly breeze fled past you in one sensually long frosty cascade, pocketing its minty presence under your Coldplay band tee shirt. You looked back at the drunk hollering masses and rolled your eyes. 

Stepping through the wet grass, you looked here and there, cherishing the quarantine ambience. Coolness greeted you like a long lost friend, hugging your frame and letting itself linger on your skin for a while. You craned your neck and the blossoming flowers of your neighbor's garden flooded your vision. 

How weird, you thought, setting your elbows on the wall which acted as a barrister between your house and Levi's. If you were a flower, then Levi was probably a root-- gnarled, branched, and yet holding such a valuable position in society.

You let your mind ponder at the whole idea of what relationship held ground between you and Levi. You knew you couldn't hold a conversation with him more than three or four minutes and you knew whenever you tried to spark up a topic, he'd turn you down and stomp on the remnants of your, 'Uhh okay.' 

He wasn't unapproachable, you'd seen him several times talking to his colleagues and inviting them to dinner or sharing his cigarettes. He wasn't a mystical creature either, drowning in his self made secretive crypts. 

He was an equivalent of a blank paper, singed at the edges. You didn't know him so you kept filling out the blank spaces with self made theories but you were very intrigued by the bitter burnt edge of him. What situation did he encounter that resulted in the aftermath of flames?

It was always the situations which molded us, which were the birth-bed of our inclinations, our nature and ecliptic state. It so happens that the little part of our initial self helps to push our reaction for or against the situation. We might become passive and flow with the current of activities. Or we flow against that current, rebel a little.

Circumstances engraft themselves inside us, they become a part of us, adding on to our side which the world can see. 

Your little thought made you lean further, contemplating if you should add more effort to your conversations with him. Perhaps a little situation may arise and turn around the way you feel about him. Or not, there was no solid and substantial guarantee.

"Hey." Levi called from his porch. "Don't eye my flowers, twit." 

"What's up, Mister?" you called back.

It was dark; you couldn't see him at all. His porch seemed like a black carpet, unearthed by any speck of light (which wasn't available at this point of night). You realized Levi had an unlimited supply of sterile, dead and stony components in the tone of his voice. It was as cold as the frozen peas in your refrigerator and as insensitive as your mom when she first discovered your fling with a college student. Great times.

"Great party, huh?" You could hear sarcasm coming your way, never giving you enough time to swat it away.

"Yeah, right." You huffed. "I can't go back, those people are monsters."

"Well, want to come here?" 

You laughed. "A little too neighborly, huh? But I'll accept the offer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please give your thoughts:)


End file.
